Never Happen Again
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: The Apple tempts with all its knowledge, and Altair wants to know more about the soulmate he has never met enough to risk it. Altair x Desmond


**Never Happen Again  
**

**A Word**: Another fill for the soulbond prompt on the kink meme. Because the one with Connor was too fluffy for my muses apparently.

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Altair is born with his soul's name stretched across the entire width of his left wrist, and learns early on in life to never show it to anyone. His father binds his wrist and teaches him to write another on his right to protect him. A boy with a name on his left hand is a perversion after all, and rarely is allowed to live and Altair has so many other things marking him as different from the other children already.

The left hand is for women, and the right for men. Those with their names on the wrong hand will grow up to become perversions in the world. Altair sits with the daughter of his father's friend and they learn to write each other's names down on the blank skin of the hand people expect to see marked. He never shows Adha his soul's name and she never shows him hers.

He doesn't know if their fathers intended for them to marry or not. They both died too soon, and Adha had been taken away so quickly. When he meets her again there is no time to ask, only time to run. For all the good that did her in the end. Altair keeps her name inked on his wrist partly out of habit, and partly to honor her memory.

There are tales that he's heard about soul names. People say they feel things from their bond, that they have dreams of their intended before meeting them. Fanciful tales of connection that are told to ease the heartbreak of children growing old enough to feel desire for the first time. Altair does not believe any of those tales. He's felt nothing with his name, and had no dreams at all.

His soul could be dead for all he knows. It's even likely given that the name on his skin is English, and the Crusaders from that land talk about little else than how wretched it is. Altair feels little connection with his name but he does wonder at times.

The gold light of the Apple dances over his name making is seem to dance. The light seems to grow in response to his thoughts and Altair has never been able to resist temptation.

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Altair finds himself in a room etched in stone with a ceiling that rises beyond his sight. Lit with cool light like most of the places the Apple has shown him. Except that he is not alone this time.

"Altair," the man smiles at him, a familiar scar twisting his lips. He wears clothing that's strange even from the Crusaders he has grown used to seeing. It's thin and fits closely to his body with no sign of any armor. The sleeves are carelessly rolled up showing muscular arms and the familiar straps of a hidden blade covering his left arm.

"Desmond," the name slips out in surprise because he can feel it. That sense of connection that he had scoffed at before. He can feel his soul standing in front of him, a warm presence that wraps around him with familiarity that shocks him to his core.

"I'm going to die today," Desmond says just as Altair relearns how to breathe. He speaks fluid Arabic, with no hint of an accent. "You were right, I am going to save the world."

"What?" Altair feels those words cut through him like a cold knife. He's struck nearly dumb with the reality of being here, of meeting his soul, and now the man tells him he is going to die. "No!"

"It's alright," Desmond steps forward and Altair loses anything he might have said at the touch of Desmond's hands on his face. At the feel of his lips opening against his as he kisses him deep and hard. Stealing all his thoughts and something vital the _hurts_ as it leaves him.

Desmond pulls back and smiles like he hasn't just ruined Altair for life. He steps back and turns to a pedestal like it's the easiest thing in the world to leave behind his soul. "Goodbye, Altair."

The world lurches around Altair as he watches Desmond place his hand on a glowing sphere.

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He finds himself on the edge of a building far higher than any he's climbed before, and a legion of brightly lit towers shooting even higher around him. The night is deep and dark for all that the lights of the strange city light up around him.

"Altair!" He spins at his name and feels something painful uncurl in his chest as Desmond comes up to him. Grinning wide and smelling strongly of sweat and smoke. A hood barely clings on to the top of his head and there's a few dark spots of blood on his clothing as he laughs. Careless and free the way some get after battle. "You missed it! You should've come earlier."

Desmond makes a pleased noise when Altair catches him and pulls him in to an embrace. His mouth opening easily under Altair's insistent press of lips and tongue. It's a little less overwhelming, the connection this time, but Altair doesn't feel the need to ever let the man go regardless.

The Apple is teasing him, Altair knows this. Knows that it only offers just enough to show what is possible, and not aide in bringing any of it to reality. He digs his fingers into the soft material of Desmond's clothing and ignores it for the moment. Focusing on the feel of Desmond pressing against him until they have to part to breathe.

"You wanted me to tell you that you're going backward, or something," Desmond says in the small space between them and the words make no sense at all until Desmond continues, "Did you see the future? Do we make it in time to save the world?"

Desmond's _last_ words echo in his mind, and Altair wants to laugh because the Apple is up to its usual tricks. "Yes, you save the world," Altair says as the world lurches, his time apparently limited.

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He's in the ruins of a building and Desmond nearly breaks his neck jumping through a hole to get to the level Altair is on. The man doesn't even pause before throwing himself at Altair. Crashing them both into a wall that gives alarmingly under their weight as Desmond kisses him hungrily. His hands pulling and tearing at Altair's clothing and armor until they both fall to the splintered boards of the floor.

"Desmond!" Altair tears himself away despite the way his body lights up as Desmond spreads his legs for him. Allowing him in distractingly close. Words fall from Desmond's mouth and Altair only understands a small fraction of them. His grasp on English is very basic, but the language Desmond talks in doesn't sound like it.

His eyes are bright and hungry, but unfocused and not truly seeing Altair. He reaches to pull Altair down but he pulls back from his hands, ignoring the sounds and words he makes. Desmond's eyes flicker and Altair slams his head down onto the floor hard.

"Fuck!" Desmond's eyes roll a bit before he blinks, and Altair finds himself being flipped under the man who looks around bewildered. Left hand open for the hidden blade he isn't actually wearing.

"You were delirious," Altair doesn't try to escape when Desmond looks back down at him. Just lets his hands creep up under the shirt that rode up in the brief struggle. Letting his touch and words calm the man down. "Are you well?"

"Yeah," Desmond looks tired and worn, but his eyes are present and focused when he looks at Altair. His hands light now on his shoulders as he pulls him up into an undemanding kiss. "I can handle this. It won't break me."

What Desmond is handling is something he doesn't know about, and there's no time for him to ask. He's been counting the time to when the world lurches.

"Tell me, when you see me next," Altair pulls back as he feels the lurch, his hands still grip Desmond tight. Clutching onto his warm, addicting skin. "That I am going backward."

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There's a bed there when he finds Desmond again. Large and draped with white cloth that matches the rest of the nearly bare room. It's soft and dents under his weight as he climbs over Desmond who is frozen and staring up at him in disbelief, "Altair?"

"Desmond," Altair dives down and kisses him, feeling Desmond shudder and open for him. Desmond arches under his touch and moans as his legs wrap around Altair. The thin layers hiding nothing at all as he grinds up with a noise that makes Altair lose the careful count of time he's been keeping.

"There's _cameras_!" Desmond says through the kiss, and he sounds panicked enough that Altair should probably be concerned by whatever those might be. He doesn't care though. Not with Desmond shaking and overwhelmed below him. Unable to handle the connection he's feeling for the first time and unable to push Altair away for want of more. It's beautiful to see.

His hands fumble with Altair's clothing, but has no trouble getting him free and wrapping a hand around his hard cock. Altair moves, snapping his hips into Desmond's hand as the man gets himself free. There's no time for much more than this. A quick rutting, both of their cocks caught in the cage of Desmond's fingers. Squeezing just enough to make his vision white out.

Altair gets his right hand down around them both and drives them harder, faster. Desmond's groans pick up, vibrating against his ear and Altair drives down hard. Mouth open on the base of his neck so he can _taste_ as well.

"F-fuck!" Desmond goes stiff and the glide between their hands gets smoother as he comes. Altair moans ans follows. Feeling his mind go blank as he grinds down against Desmond. Staining their clothing and wringing every last bit of pleasure from them both.

The world lurches and Altair turns his head fast. Desperate for a little more contact before he leaves. Desmond gasps in his mouth and the kiss is a messy slide of lips and tongue.

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_Altair_ flows across the newly born child's left wrist. The baby wakes with a start when he leans down to press a finger to his lax face. He looks up at him with wide almost awed eyes, but makes no noise. They're light, almost gold and Altair knows they will darken eventually into the deep brown he's grown so used to.

This is the end, Altair knows the Apple is done showing him these moments, and he mourns it already. Mourns the death of his soul who hasn't even been born yet in his time. Altair leans down and presses his lips to the boy's head. Wisps of hair tickle his chin and his voice is low in deference to the darkened room. "Goodbye, Desmond."

The world lurches around him.

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The Apple is dark and the sun is lowering in the sky. He's been in it for the entire day, but it feels like he's lived an entire lifetime in those too short jumps. Desmond's name is cold and lifeless on his skin once again. The spark of life that had filled it, and filled him gone. He feels empty and terribly alone like he hasn't since the first time he realized what his mistakes in Solomon's Temple cost him in terms of the Brotherhood.

Altair leans his head back and tries to memorize the touch of Desmond's lips, the taste of his skin, and the image of his grin. To etch it into his mind because he will not have the chance to experience it again. The Apple does not work that way. "Desmond."

The Apple is dangerous, the temptations it offers deadly in their consequences. Even when those things aren't physical.

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End file.
